Heart of the Wolf by D. B. Reynolds Page A

the blood of their vanquished enemy, to slide her belly across the cold snow and submit. But Kathryn had never known the lust of a wolf, only a man. And what she knew was tainted with pain and disgust. So she’d run.
    She could hear Ren coming up the stairs, his footfalls heavy and even. She was naked, her skin pebbling with cold, trembling uncontrollably with equal parts of fear and desire. The door opened slowly, so slowly, she found herself craning her neck to see who stood there, even though it could only be him. She jerked back as his broad shoulders filled the doorway, his chest heaving with effort, blood still staining his human form, despite his obvious efforts to clean up.
    His eyes were heavy, half-lidded beneath thick lashes as he scanned the room with a lazy, predatory gaze. When he found her, his hungry eyes swept over her from head to toe, and a small smile creased his hard mouth.
    “Kathryn,” he growled.
    She jumped at the sound of his voice, pressing herself harder against the wall as if she could escape through the wood and plaster somehow. And yet a part of her didn’t want to escape. A part of her wanted to run across the room and throw herself into his arms, to press her breasts against his firm chest, to open herself and let him…
    “Kathryn,” Ren crooned, “I know you want this, want me. I can smell your need.”
    She gasped. “Don’t say things like that!”
    Ren laughed, low and seductive, as he came slowly closer. “Don’t you want me, Kathryn?”
    “Yes,” she whispered desperately. “I want you to—” She covered her mouth with her fingers, shocked at herself.
    “What?” he murmured. “Tell me what you want.”
    He was so close. She could feel the brush of his breath washing over her skin, could feel the heat rolling off of him in waves. And, oh, God, she could feel his desire for her, his cock hard and rampant with wanting, pressing against the heavy denim of his jeans.
    “Don’t be afraid of me, Kathryn.”
    “I’m not. Not really. It’s just…”
    “What, sweetheart? Tell me.”
    “I’m afraid of this. I’ve never mated as a wolf. I’m afraid I’ll do it wrong, that you’ll—”
    He held her then, his arms hard and strong, letting her feel the beat of his heart, the slickness of the blood on his skin, the firm shaft of his erection pressing against her belly through the rough cloth.
    “You are Wolf, sweet Kathryn. You may have been exiled among the humans for all these years, but you are still Wolf. I come to you covered in the blood of our enemy, as male wolves have for centuries. Torn, bloodied, furious that we have been forced to fight in order to claim our mate and yet filled with desire for her, for you , Kathryn. It is a glorious thing that no human joining could ever rival.”
    “But—” She gasped as she felt a single sharp claw glide down her back, slicing deftly into her skin in a long line of exquisite pain. She shivered with desire, every nerve in her body coming to life.
    “There is no shame in what you are, Kathryn,” he continued in a low, sensuous voice. “There is only beauty and grace such as I never found until I met you. You are mine, Kathryn. You were always mine.”
    He raised his hand again, trailing two claws this time, down her back to her buttocks. She moaned with need, her hands falling away from her chest and reaching out to stroke his muscular thighs, letting her own claws run out to hold him against her. He sucked in a breath.
    “Let me show you,” he managed to say. “Gods, Kathryn, let me show you the glory that is Wolf.”
    His claws disappeared as his fingers cupped her bottom and pressed lightly, tucking her up against him so she could feel his arousal, hard and long in the crease between her legs. She moved instinctively, rubbing herself against him. He groaned as his fingers dipped between her legs where she was wet and hot, her sex swollen with desire. She cried out when he touched her clit, heard his soft chuckle